My Drawings Came to Life

Another day passed, and Malcolm found himself at the hospital counter, signing his discharge papers. The nurse behind the desk looked at him with a mix of concern and admiration.

"Do you need some help escorting you out?" she asked, her tone gentle.

Malcolm shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "No, I don't want to look too helpless. You can hear me screaming at the stairs if I need some help."

The nurse raised an eyebrow, unamused. "I think I should really just forcibly escort you."

"No, really, thanks," Malcolm replied, his smirk widening. "I can handle my… uh, feet."

The nurse sighed, her worry evident. "I'm rather impressed by your resolve, but I'm still going to watch you descend the stairs."

Malcolm chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Fair enough."

The nurse walked with him through the hall, making small talk as they went. Malcolm appreciated her kindness, but his mind was already elsewhere, thinking about what lay ahead.

As they approached the hospital entrance, a figure caught Malcolm's eye. A female player stood nearby, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her fit physique evident even under her light armor. A rapier hung at her waist, and her presence exuded confidence and strength.

The nurse smiled and gestured toward the woman. "Oh, Malcolm, let me introduce you to the player who saved you. She's the one I was talking about."

Malcolm's eyes widened as he remembered the business card the nurse had given him. Luna Holler.

Luna stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She extended her hand to Malcolm. "Malcolm Heart, right?"

Malcolm shook her hand, his grip firm despite his nerves. "Yeah, that's me. Malcolm Heart."

"Luna Holler," she said, her tone gentle and bubbly. "And I can sense that you've awakened."

Malcolm was taken aback. "How could you know?"

Luna laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Players like me can recognize another awakener just by touching your hands. Though, there are some players powerful enough to sense your mana without even making contact."

Malcolm listened intently, his mind racing. He realized there was no going back to a normal life now. The Player Bureau Association would regard him as a player, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. He sighed, his voice tinged with resignation.

"I'm disabled now. How can I hope to become a player?"

Luna chuckled, her tone reassuring. "I guess you didn't know that society has evolved technologically, thanks to the players' talents and the gemstones. You can still walk with the help of bionic legs."

Malcolm's eyes lit up, a spark of hope igniting within him. "Really? But I guess they're expensive, no?"

Luna smiled warmly. "I can afford that much. It's the least I can do for someone who saved the orphanage."

She explained that she had grown up in that orphanage, and it would have devastated her if something worse had happened. Malcolm nodded, understanding her gratitude but still feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "I… I don't know what to say."

Luna patted his shoulder gently. "You don't have to say anything. Just focus on getting back on your feet—literally."

The nurse, who had been quietly observing their conversation, suddenly interjected with a teasing smile. "Well, then, I guess I'll leave Mr. Malcolm to you. And leave you both to your… date," she said, her tone playful.

Both Malcolm and Luna flushed, their faces turning red. Luna stammered, "It's not—we're not—" but the nurse just waved her hand, chuckling as she walked away.

Luna sighed, shaking her head, then took hold of Malcolm's wheelchair, pushing him toward the hospital entrance. As they made their way outside, Luna broke the silence.

"So, I assumed you're an artist, before the incident?" she asked, her tone casual but curious.

Malcolm nodded. "Yeah, I draw for fun. Though some of my arts were sold from time to time."

Luna's eyes lit up with interest. "Just curious," she said, pulling out her phone. She swiped through her gallery and showed Malcolm a picture of herself posing in front of a poster.

The poster depicted a white-haired elf dressed in a knight's uniform, her pose dynamic and full of resolve. She held a rapier in front of her, her eyes gleaming with bravery. At the bottom right corner of the poster was a small signature: M. Heart.

Malcolm's eyes widened in recognition. "Hey, that's Lira Silverstrom! That's one of the pieces I sold some years ago."

Luna's face lit up with excitement. "You drew this?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.

Malcolm smiled, a hint of pride in his expression. "Yeah, I did."

Luna suddenly let out a squeal of delight, throwing her arms around Malcolm in a tight hug. "Kyahhh! I'm a big fan, Mr. Heart!"

Malcolm blushed furiously, his face turning crimson as something soft brushed against his arm. Luna bounced wildly, her enthusiasm uncontainable, as if she had just met her idol.

"I've been looking everywhere for you on the internet and couldn't find a single clue about you!" she exclaimed, still hugging him tightly. "I love your artworks! There are people on Twitter who've posted your arts and are also searching everywhere for your social media accounts!"

Malcolm chuckled awkwardly, his blush deepening. "Well, I mostly spend my time drawing in my room. I hardly ever touch my computer, let alone my phone, except for news updates and stuff."

Luna finally pulled back, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "That's why people can't find you! You're like a mysterious artist who disappears after creating masterpieces."

Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck, feeling both flattered and embarrassed. "I guess you could say that. I just… never really thought about putting myself out there."

Luna grinned, her excitement undiminished. "Well, you've got a fan in me now. And I'm not letting you disappear again!"

Malcolm couldn't help but smile. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of validation and connection. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

Behind them however, unnoticed by both Malcolm and Luna, Veyl hovered in the air, its pages trembling with barely contained emotion. Inside one of its pages, a female figure stirred. Her curves were outlined in dark, fiery hues, her horns twisting upward like a demon's crown. Her eyes burned with jealousy as she watched Luna hug Malcolm.

"That bitch!" she hissed, her voice low and venomous. She bit down on the edge of her skirt, her hands clenching into fists. "How dare she touch him? I'll tear her limb from limb!"

Her hand gestured in a clawing motion, as if she could reach through the page and rip Luna apart. But for now, she was confined to the notebook, forced to watch as Luna excitedly chatted with Malcolm, her bubbly laughter grating on the demonic figure's nerves.

Meanwhile, Luna pushed Malcolm's wheelchair toward the entrance, her enthusiasm undiminished. She called a taxi, waving energetically to catch the driver's attention. Once the taxi pulled up, she carefully assisted Malcolm inside, making sure he was comfortable before sliding in beside him.

"I can't wait to see your workshop, Mr. Heart!" Luna said, her eyes lit up with excitement. "I've always wondered where you create your masterpieces."

Malcolm, however, was visibly worried. His apartment was a mess—piles of crumpled papers, scattered art supplies, and dust-covered surfaces. He had never been one to entertain guests, let alone someone as energetic and admiring as Luna.

"Uh, yeah," Malcolm replied, his voice hesitant. "It's… not much, really. Just a small space where I draw."

Luna didn't seem to notice his discomfort. "I'm sure it's amazing! I can't wait to see where Lira Silverstrom was born!"

Malcolm forced a smile, but his mind was racing. How am I going to explain the mess? he thought. And what if she sees something she shouldn't?

The taxi ride felt longer than it should have, Malcolm's anxiety growing with every passing minute. Luna, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in her seat, her excitement contagious but overwhelming.

When they finally arrived at Malcolm's apartment building, Luna helped him out of the taxi and into his wheelchair. She looked up at the building, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"This is it?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.

"Yeah," Malcolm replied, his tone sheepish. "It's not much, but it's home."

As they made their way inside, Malcolm couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He had no idea how Luna would react to the state of his apartment, but he knew there was no turning back now.

The door swung open, revealing the chaotic mess inside. Crumpled papers littered the floor, half-finished sketches were scattered across every surface, and dust coated the furniture. Malcolm's computer sat in the corner, untouched and forgotten, while his drawing supplies were piled haphazardly on the coffee table.